


Stargazing

by heavenlypears



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Healing, Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Canon Non-Binary Character, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley Keeps Pre-Fall Memories (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Healing, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Ineffable Partners, Kissing, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Non-Binary Aziraphale/Crowley, Romantic Fluff, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Stargazing, Stars, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Wings, a tiny bit of angst, author is diabetic and this was far too sweet for her, crowley has scars from the fall but not graphic, i promise it really isnt much angst at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29764695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenlypears/pseuds/heavenlypears
Summary: The angel raked his gaze over his lover’s porcelain skin. Until now, he had seen Crowley’s wings only in the daytime, where sunlight bounced off his feathers and revealed a kaleidoscope of greens, violets and blues that shifted in hue and intensity each time he rolled his shoulders and stretched. But now, beneath the stars, his wings were ink, filling the space around him with such intense blackness that they shrouded him in his own world. Aziraphale desperately wanted to step into it and feel the comfort of his demon’s embrace, swallowed by wings that offered him the same protection and reassurance that he had provided Crowley with on the day they had met.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first GO fic, I hope you like it! Any errors are my own.

“Beautiful.”

The word was entirely at home on the lips of an angel. Crowley had turned away, his head tilted towards the open sky, and he ‘mmm’ed in agreement. But Aziraphale had not glanced up at all, and he repeated the word in silence as he continued to trace the demon’s face with eyes softened by love.

“Truly exquisite,” he murmured, and finally, Crowley glanced at him. His eyebrows shot up as he met Aziraphale’s steady gaze.

“I meant the sky, angel. You really ought to be paying attention. I’m trying to teach you things.”

“Indeed, you are.” Aziraphale smiled. “But all the stars in the universe cannot begin to compare to the splendid creation I see before me. And this one is tangible.” He reached out a hand and gently brushed a knuckle over the demon’s jaw.

Crowley made an unintelligible sound, and the darkness mercifully masked the furious blush that crept up his neck.

“Flatterer,” he muttered.

“I do believe so, yes. I make no apology for admiring you, Crowley, but I suppose I ought to pay attention now. But might I make a request first?”

Crowley’s brow furrowed. “Uhh... of course.”

“Well.” This time, it was Aziraphale’s turn to blush. “I’d quite like to groom you.”

The demon’s jaw dropped, and his mouth was suddenly very dry. He swallowed thickly.

 _“Groom_ me?”

“Yes, dear. If you’re agreeable, of course.”

“I-uh. Yes. I just... I don’t really...” Crowley shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, my love. Have you never been groomed before?”

Crowley fixed his gaze on the stars again. “Not exactly, no.”

Aziraphale frowned, and his hand found Crowley’s. He threaded their fingers together and placed their hands on his knee.

“It was just a thought, dear. I do think you might enjoy it, but I am quite content with sitting here like this if you prefer.” He brought the demon’s hand to his lips and planted a kiss there.

“I mean, I’m not opposed to it, angel. I’m just not sure... what does it involve, exactly?” Crowley frowned. Aziraphale squeezed his hand, and the demon felt his anxieties begin to fade.

“Well, allow me to show you. I believe we are quite alone here.”

He glanced around, just to be sure, and Crowley nodded. A helpful miracle had placed them several miles from the busy city, atop a hill with an unobstructed view of the night sky. They had only shared two bottles of vintage red; they were being abstemious tonight in order to truly appreciate their surroundings.

“It will be easier if you remove your shirt, Crowley.”

The demon snickered. “Will it now?”

“Oh, you fiend.” Aziraphale scoffed. “I just wish to spare your clothes from needless damage.”

“Was kidding, angel.” Crowley shrugged off his shirt. The cool evening air caressed his bare skin, and he shivered.

“Come now. I’ll move out of the way.”

Aziraphale got to his feet and stepped back. Crowley mourned the loss of the angel’s hand in his for a moment, but Aziraphale stopped a short distance away and his smile, barely visible in the darkness, held a promise: he would never leave Crowley—not ever again. The demon kept that knowledge close to his heart. They didn’t have to hide anymore, but each day that the angel chose to stay was a day that Crowley never took for granted.

He flexed his shoulders, and with a pop, reality warped around him. The air stilled, and the demon stretched his wings luxuriously. But he felt very exposed, and he folded his arms across his chest. His wings curved around him.

The angel raked his gaze over his lover’s porcelain skin. Until now, he had seen Crowley’s wings only in the daytime, where sunlight bounced off his feathers and revealed a kaleidoscope of greens, violets and blues that shifted in hue and intensity each time he rolled his shoulders and stretched. But now, beneath the stars, his wings were ink, filling the space around him with such intense blackness that they shrouded him in his own world. Aziraphale desperately wanted to step into it and feel the comfort of his demon’s embrace, swallowed by wings that offered him the same protection and reassurance that he had provided Crowley with on the day they had met.

Aziraphale’s hand hovered over his heart.

“Crowley, dear...” He trailed off. Crowley raised an arm, and the angel padded over to join him, eyes wide and jaw slack with awe. Crowley’s magnificent wings were usually partially-hidden by clothing, but there was something about the way he sat now, bare-chested and cross-legged in the lush grass, bathed in an ethereal glow, that made Aziraphale giddy with exhilaration and desire.

Aziraphale’s hands twitched. He wanted to feel the curve of Crowley’s jaw in his palm as his fingers disappeared into the shock of red hair. He wanted to feel his lover's warm, wine-sweetened breath mingling with his own as they kissed. He wanted so much from Crowley, and the demon was always more than willing to give it to him.

“Angel?”

Crowley grinned, his teeth catching the moonlight, and Aziraphale fell under his spell. He stepped between giant wings and knelt in front of the demon.

“You tempt me so, demon. I fall in love with you more each day.”

Crowley chuckled as the angel placed a hand on his chest. “Oh, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Aziraphale smiled and planted a chaste kiss on his lover’s cheek. He pulled away, but Crowley followed his movement until his mouth found the angel’s. Their kiss was deep and passionate and ever so tender, their tongues exploring territory that they were familiar with now. But they had an eternity of kissing to make up for, and neither could ever grow tired of it.

Aziraphale felt the brush of feathers against his nape and turned his head. Crowley’s wings had folded around him, bringing him close, an embrace that cut them off from the rest of the universe.

“I could stay like this all night,” the angel whispered. But before Crowley could respond with _‘yes, we could, and I don’t see a reason why we shouldn't'_ , Aziraphale got to his feet and gently lifted one large wing out of the way.

“I’ll start from the base and work my way to the ends, Crowley. Educate me; I am a very willing student.”

Aziraphale stepped behind the demon and gently stretched out his folded left wing. His fingers lightly grazed the wing joint when Crowley jolted and snapped them together.

“Wait,” he pleaded. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Aziraphale paused. He noted the way Crowley’s shoulders slumped, his head hung low, and he walked over to face the demon again.

“We don’t have to, dear. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“No, no. I want to know how it feels... I just...”

Aziraphale didn’t need to see Crowley’s face, which was turned away from the moon’s gaze, to tell that he was on the verge of tears. His heart sank to his toes, and he sat on the ground beside Crowley.

“My love, I do believe I know what the matter is.” His hand found Crowley’s in the dark, and he knotted them again. “Your wings... did they...”

Aziraphale couldn’t bear to finish the sentence. Crowley was stiff beside him, brooding, and then it all flooded out of him in a torrent of grief. Six thousand years of carefully guarded emotions poured from his mouth and spilt from his eyes. His grip on the angel’s hand became a vice.

“They were gone, you know, for a while. We Fell, and our wings couldn’t save us. I felt them melt away when we plunged into sulphur, and when they grew back, they were different. Black and burned. But you haven’t seen underneath, angel. I did, once, when I caught my reflection in a pond. But I...” He fell silent. The tears had stopped now, though he did not meet Aziraphale’s gaze. Several moments passed, the silence punctuated only by the crickets chirping in the grass around them, their eerie cries rendered mournful by the melancholic atmosphere.

“I’m ugly.” His words were forced and harsh, and they carved into Aziraphale’s heart like hot knives. “It’s why I keep a shirt on. Nobody wants to see me.” He barked out a humourless laugh.

Aziraphale closed his eyes. His grip on Crowley’s hand grew tighter, more urgent, as though he desperately wished to channel his love through his corporation and straight into that of the demon’s. He felt Crowley’s answering squeeze and opened his eyes to look at him.

“You are so beautiful, Crowley. Every part of you that I see is a gift bestowed upon me by Go- by _Someone_.” His hand cupped the demon’s jaw, and he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears that lingered on his cheek. “And I know you might not believe me, but your low opinion of yourself does not affect mine. I am very much in love with you, I’m afraid, and if you’ll let me, I would rather like to prove it.”

Crowley sighed and nodded his head. Aziraphale waited for confirmation, and then he returned to Crowley’s shoulders and snapped his fingers. A glowing orb of divine light hovered above them and cast a warm amber glow on the demon’s wing. With gentle hands, Aziraphale parted the covert feathers that covered the joint and almost immediately saw what it was that Crowley was so embarrassed about.

The skin beneath was thickened and raised, and the feathers were bent and twisted around the puckered flesh. Crowley flinched as Aziraphale traced the scar with a delicate finger, and immediately the angel removed his hand and placed it in Crowley’s hair instead.

“I’m sorry, does it hurt? Should I stop?” Aziraphale gently rubbed the demon’s scalp until he felt him relax under his touch.

“Mmm. Bit uncomfortable. I’m just... are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to touch it.”

“You know, dear, scars aren’t something to be ashamed of. Especially when they are borne from something you could not change. I only wish you had shown me sooner. I can help if you like, just so that you are more comfortable.”

Crowley’s ears pricked. He tore his gaze away from the night sky and tried to see over his shoulder. “You can fix me?”

Aziraphale continued to trace circles in the demon’s hair. “You do not need fixing, my love. You are whole, not broken. I would not change a single thing about you, except your ability to see yourself as I see you.”

Crowley began to grumble, but Aziraphale sharply hushed him.

“I am quite firm on this matter, Crowley. I accept and cherish every part of you. Now, let me begin.”

With that, the angel placed his palm flat on the damaged tissue. “This might feel unpleasant, but it is far more tolerable than plucking.”

There was a quiet chime. Crowley yelped in surprise rather than pain as Aziraphale removed the broken feathers from the wing joint. Aziraphale gazed down at the scarred flesh.

“Now, I removed those because I should imagine they hinder your flight, or at the very least, are uncomfortable reminders of a dark chapter in your life. You have quite a bit of scarring, but the feathers should still grow over it.”

Aziraphale’s hand grew very hot, and beneath his palms, he felt something pointed erupting through the skin. He moved his hand away and watched in fascination as new, soft feathers unfurled from the sharp shafts and spread to fill the bald spot.

“There we are. Now, you ought to teach me all about your handiwork, dear, whilst I carry on. It will take a while—they look to be quite neglected.”

Crowley’s wings twitched, and he tilted his chin up. Aziraphale bent over to kiss his forehead.

“I don’t know how you did that. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t change it. I was sure She did it on purpose to punish me.”

“Well, dear, you know angels have healing properties. And I do believe mine might have an extra quality that makes them more effective.”

Crowley frowned. An involuntary shiver ran up his spine when Aziraphale brushed against his feathers. “Huh? What?”

Aziraphale buried his fingers between black tertial feathers and, very gently, gripped handfuls of them close to the skin. “Love, Crowley. I believe my love for you makes things possible that ought not to be. In fact, I _know_ it to be true. Every day, our love inspires me to do the most extraordinary things and, quite frankly, I’m rather happy about it.”

Crowley choked out a noise that could have been an _ngk_ or may have been a sob. Aziraphale remained silent as he gently ran his fingers up the feathers' spines, carefully realigning the barbules. His hands worked rhythmically, mirroring each other perfectly until the entire wing was glossy and smooth.

Crowley had slumped under his touch, and the angel placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay, dear?”

“Mmm. Was nice. Never been touched like that before. I mean, I know you do touch me”—his cheeks flamed—“but this is different. Nobody has touched my wings before.”

“Yes, well, I would rather like to make a habit of this if you are so inclined. Now dear, what were you saying before? Something about planetary systems?”

Crowley straightened up, and as he puffed out his chest, his wing clipped Aziraphale’s hip and caused him to lose his balance. The angel smiled as he righted himself; Crowley had already launched into a passionate explanation of cosmic dimensions.

He only half-listened to what Crowley was saying about gravity manipulation as he slowly ran his fingers up the shafts of each feather in carefully-measured handfuls. Aziraphale was far too concerned with the excitable tones that brought the demon’s voice up an octave and the way he fidgeted and rocked forwards whenever he got to a particularly interesting detail. Occasionally he would freeze and glance at the angel with his lips pressed together as if he were afraid he had spoken too much. But Aziraphale smiled encouragingly, and now and then he would pause to run soft fingers through Crowley’s hair.

“Yes, dear. Remind me: which of the stars is your favourite?”

Aziraphale would stop and listen, then, when it mattered. Crowley pointed to the sky, his smile wide and unrestrained, and it lit up his face almost as well as the moon did. He raised an arm to clasp the angel’s hand, and Aziraphale’s heart swelled.

“That’s like asking someone if they have a favourite child.” Crowley grinned. The hand that had been tracing out constellations fell into his lap. “Do you have one?”

Aziraphale’s eyes scanned the glittering canvas above them. “Polaris. What a wonderful design. Humans had used it for years to orient themselves before they discovered other ways of navigating. A mariner’s best friend.”

“Mmm. That’s in the Ursa Minor constellation. I didn’t really have a hand in that one.”

“No?”

“My department focused on nurseries, mostly. Orion in particular. They really were my babies.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Careful, dear. You’re beginning to sound soft.”

Crowley groaned under his breath, and Aziraphale moved to work on his neglected right wing. “Don’t listen to my teasing, love. Go on.”

Crowley’s finger carved a path through the velvet sky and settled on a smooth, blue-grey streak. “There it is. Hanging from the Belt, look, next to Orion’s Sword. That’s where we made them. I don’t think anyone visits anymore. They sort of make themselves now. And look.”

Crowley held out his hands and pressed his fingertips together, and Aziraphale leant over his shoulder to watch. The was a slight _pop_ as reality shifted again, and to the angel’s astonishment, the patch of night sky between the demon’s hands was magnified. Orion’s Belt shimmered as though it was mere feet away—a hypnotic shift of caramel, teal and magenta gases twirling and undulating. Specks of dust glittered and clumped together, and Aziraphale realised he was holding his breath. He remained silent as he flattened his palm against the wing joint. As before, he gently removed the broken feathers and encouraged new growth to spring up along the scarred flesh.

“I used to be up there for hours.” Wistful notes clung to the demon's words. "Shaping them. Growing them. Sending them on their way and making sure they found their homes. I built that whole star system, you know, with a few other angels.”

“Anybody that I know?” Aziraphale paused when Crowley shivered under his touch. He realigned handfuls of feathers and began to tug at the tertials carefully. The demon lifted his arm to cooperate.

“Hm. Prob’ly. They didn’t Fall.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, Crowley. I didn’t know.”

“S’alright. I was better at it than them, anyway.” Aziraphale heard his grin, even though he could not see it.

“Alpha Centauri,” the angel prompted, keen to pull the subject in a different direction before the demon could dwell on it. “You made that one, didn’t you?”

Crowley exhaled noisily, and Aziraphale smiled. He had heard the story a dozen times already, but he never tired of the way the demon’s face became so animated. This wing was also finished, now, and he sat beside Crowley with patient love.

“S’my favourite. You already know that. You don’t want me to repeat myself.”

“I do, Crowley. I want to hear all about it.” Aziraphale pressed his lips against the demon’s face and felt the apple of his cheek lift into another dazzling smile. Crowley turned to face him and kissed him ardently, his hands cupping gentle blonde curls and holding the angel quite still even when the kiss ended, their foreheads pressed together. The space between them was warm and heavy, and every nerve in their corporations twitched expectantly.

“I love this nebula the most because I could watch Her make the World as we worked. We had a lot of fun. Sometimes we would pick a star and throw it and see if we could hit the Earth.” He snickered. “The Almighty didn’t much like that.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “No, I don’t expect She did.”

“We should do that one day, you know—you and me. Visit Alpha Centauri together and play ring toss. The humans love it”—he added hastily as he sensed the angel’s disapproval—“and they take photos and everything. They even have names for it: comets, shooting stars, and the like. They would enjoy a light show.”

Aziraphale laced their fingers together. “Well, when you put it like that, it does sound rather fun. And if it would make a lot of people happy, I would be remiss not to participate.”

“And it’s a binary system, “ Crowley whispered. His sweet breath was intoxicating, more so than the empty bottles of wine that still lay in the grass nearby. “Reminds me of us.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale beamed. “Something expressed in two parts.”

“But we aren’t two parts anymore, angel. We’re a whole.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, dear. Let me see if we have finished. You know, some birds have a remarkable method of keeping their feathers in tip-top condition. They lack an oil gland—and I didn’t notice one on you—so they generate a sort of powder made from old feather dust to keep things clean.”

Crowley grimaced. “Sounds revolting.”

“No, no. It is really quite a clever adaption. But I wondered... well, it’s silly, really.” Aziraphale walked behind the demon and stood back, appraising his work. It really was quite dark now, but he could just pick out the outline of Crowley’s wings. “Perhaps you have something similar, Crowley. There must be a way of keeping your feathers in order. And you really ought to—they’re rather beautiful, in spite of my bias.”

Crowley frowned. “Well, how do I know?”

“Give them a shake, perhaps?” Aziraphale pondered. “I don’t really know.”

Crowley considered his words. His first attempt was poor; he waggled his wings awkwardly and laughed at the ridiculous display.

“Give it some welly, dear boy,” Aziraphale encouraged. “You can do better than that.”

Crowley groaned and tilted his wings forward. His feathers obliged, stretching across both limbs and pointing ahead like ebony darts. He twitched his shoulders and heard an audible gasp from behind him.

“’Ziraphale?” he sputtered, fighting panic. He tried to turn his head to see. “What’s happened?”

“Oh, Crowley. You beautiful creature. I... I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 _“What?”_ Crowley failed to hide his annoyance. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Aziraphale sniffled. Crowley turned enough to watch him reach for the silk handkerchief he kept in the pocket of his waistcoat and dab at his eyes. The movement caused his wings to twitch, and dust motes floated past his face—dust he could see in the darkness, glittering like mirrors.

“What the...” Crowley muttered. Curious, he twitched his wings again, and more glitter fell past his shoulders like shimmering raindrops.

Aziraphale watched him through tears that dripped delicately down his nose. The demon was older than time itself, but he sat cross-legged now, gently beating his wings, his eyes dancing with wonder like a small child as more glittering particles coated his pale skin, clung to his trousers, and decorated the lush grass.

“Is it...?” Crowley’s voice was barely above a whisper. He knew what it was, really. He had seen enough of it before the Fall—been kissed all over his face with it, had it combed through his hair, had it branded on his skin in gleaming stripes.

“Crowley, I think it’s stardust!” Aziraphale cupped his hands and caught some. It glittered in his palm like precious stones. “Oh, you clever serpent. It must be there to keep your wings in perfect condition. And you never noticed?”

“No!” Crowley’s smile was wide and innocent. He beat his wings repeatedly, and his hands braced against the ground as he tilted his head to the skies. The stars moved now, shimmering against indigo, shaken loose from his feathers to paint the world around them.

Crowley watched Aziraphale studying the dust in his palms.

“C’mere!” the demon called out, reaching a hand to his angel, and Aziraphale approached him with enthusiasm. “Please let me hold you.”

They stayed like this for some time. Aziraphale rested his head on the demon’s shoulder, nestled between his legs. Crowley had his arms wrapped around his angel, his shimmering wings folded like a shield around them again. This time, they glittered vibrantly from iridescent green and purple flecks that peppered the demon’s ebony wings. They were looking at their own star system now, and it was tangible, as the angel had said before. Aziraphale reached out and stroked the back of his hand against one of the feathers. More dust came loose and danced in their space, floating idly in front of them before settling on the angel’s eyelashes. Crowley sighed, and his arms coiled tighter around Aziraphale. He brushed his lips against the shell of his lover’s ear and chuckled against him as he shivered.

“I could stay like this all night,” the angel whispered.

And this time, Crowley said what he had meant all along: “Yes, we could. And I don’t see a reason why we shouldn’t.”


	2. Fanart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some beautiful fanart, thank you so much!

Absolutely adorable art from AJ, thank you so much, I am so blown away by this! So beautiful! 

They are on twitter: @demonicsimp


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